Chapter 12: The Kneazle
Just then, a soft "meow" caught Russell's attention.
He turned toward the sound — and in the shadowy corner of the Magical Menagerie, he spotted a peculiar-looking cat pacing anxiously inside a small brass cage.
Its fur was patterned with sleek, wild-looking spots; its ears were large and pointed, its tail tufted like a lion's, and it was currently spinning in circles, trying to catch that very tail with a frustrated growl.
Russell's eyes lit up instantly.
He took a step forward — only to be stopped by the shopkeeper, who raised a hand quickly.
"Ah, careful there," the man warned. "That one's not for sale."
Russell frowned. "Not for sale? Why? Is it sick?"
"Not sick," the shopkeeper replied with a sigh. "But that's not a cat — it's a purebred Kneazle."
Seeing Russell's puzzled expression, he elaborated patiently, "A magical creature, classified XXXX by the Ministry of Magic. Too dangerous for a young wizard like you to handle. And to legally keep one, you'd need a Kneazle Handling License."
---
"How do I get one of those licenses?" Russell asked immediately, without hesitation.
He wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away.
After all, Kneazles were said to possess extraordinary instincts — they could sense deceit and detect untrustworthy people. More impressively, they could always guide their lost owners safely home.
And on top of that? They were adorably fluffy.
Forget the cranky, squashed-faced Crookshanks — this one looked infinitely more charming.
The shopkeeper chuckled, seeing the gleam in Russell's eyes. "It's simple enough — in theory. You just have to make it like you. But trust me, that's not easy. This little fellow's been here for ages, and it hasn't taken to a single soul yet. It's… quite picky."
"I'd like to try," Russell said firmly.
The shopkeeper shrugged. "Your choice. But if you get scratched or bitten, that's on you. I'm not responsible."
"No problem," Russell replied with a confident smile, then turned toward Professor Flitwick. "Professor, is it even allowed to bring a Kneazle to Hogwarts?"
Flitwick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The rules don't forbid it," he admitted. "But if it causes trouble, the headmaster might reconsider…"
That was all Russell needed to hear.
Not forbidden meant permitted enough.
He immediately ignored the second half of the professor's sentence.
Besides — if Hagrid could raise an Acromantula, and Newt Scamander could travel the world with a suitcase full of magical beasts, and Voldemort himself had once kept a basilisk under the school — surely he could handle one little Kneazle.
Compared to those monsters, this one was practically a house pet.
They had their beasts, Russell thought with a grin, so why shouldn't I have mine?
At Russell's request, the shopkeeper reluctantly unlatched the cage.
The Kneazle darted out in a blur of motion — fast as lightning — but instead of bolting for freedom, it began circling Russell curiously, tail swishing, nose twitching as it sniffed at his robes and hands with a soft, inquisitive purr.
"Easy there, little one," Russell said gently, crouching down. He extended his arms, and to his delight, the Kneazle didn't resist. It allowed itself to be lifted, then pressed its warm, speckled head against his palm and — quite unexpectedly — licked his fingers.
Russell grinned and looked up at the shopkeeper with a raised brow.
"Well?"
The man blinked, astonished. "Well, I'll be damned… It actually likes you."
He sighed, throwing up his hands in defeat.
"All right, she's yours. Thirty Galleons — and that's me giving you a discount, mind you. I've had her for months and no one's managed to win her over."
"Twenty-five," Russell countered automatically.
To his surprise, the shopkeeper agreed without hesitation. "Deal."
Russell blinked, then groaned softly and smacked his thigh. "Should've gone lower…"
Still, a deal was a deal. He wasn't about to haggle after making the offer himself.
---
By the time they'd returned home — and after another stomach-churning ride on the Knight Bus — Russell felt like his insides had been scrambled.
"Professor Flitwick," he said, pale but smiling, "thank you for all your help today."
Flitwick chuckled, adjusting his hat. "No need for thanks, my boy. It's all part of my duty. Now—" He twitched his wand, and with a crack of displaced air, he vanished.
Apparition.
Russell sighed wistfully. "Now that's a spell I'd love to learn someday."
He glanced down at the creature curled in his arms.
"From now on," he said softly, "this is your home, Ice Cream."
That was the name he'd chosen for his new companion — because when the Kneazle curled up into a fluffy ball, it looked exactly like a scoop of pineapple-flavored ice cream.
He opened the door and set her down. Ice Cream hesitated only a moment before bursting into life, tearing through the house with joyful energy. She'd clearly been cooped up in that pet shop for far too long.
Russell smiled. Welcome home.
---
Later that day, he visited the Addams family to deliver their gifts.
"Thank you, Russell! I love it!" beamed Pugsley, his round face glowing with delight. He held up the beautifully bound book Russell had chosen — a detailed account of infamous magical crimes across America, including the "Black Dahlia" case, whose killer had turned out to be a wizard.
Meanwhile, Wednesday stood silently with her arms crossed, expression unreadable but gaze fixed squarely on Russell.
Of course, he hadn't forgotten her gift — he was just saving it for last. Partly because he wanted to see her reaction, and partly because… well, he had a feeling Wednesday might like him. There was something about her sharp, calm intensity that made him suspect as much.
He turned to her at last.
"Wednesday, this one's for you."
From behind his back, he lifted a small cage. Inside, coiled tightly into a ball, was a Ball Python.
The serpent raised its head slightly as she approached.
Pugsley immediately leaned in, curiosity gleaming. "Whoa—!"
But Wednesday pushed him aside, her eyes glinting with fascination. She gently reached into the cage, letting the snake slither into her hands.
The python coiled slowly, twining around her pale wrist and up her arm, docile and calm.
Russell couldn't help but smile. A perfect match.
---
The rest of the family was equally pleased.
Gomez Addams received a tie that could magically change its color and pattern to match its wearer's mood.
Morticia got a rare book on the art of enchanted knitting.
Grandmama Esmeralda received a cookbook — though Russell suspected her cauldron would never produce anything remotely edible.
Even Lurch, Thing, and the biting rose plant Fasher received their own small gifts.
Russell's motto for the day was simple: everyone gets something.
"Oh, darling," Morticia murmured, looping her arms around Gomez's neck as his tie shimmered crimson, "you're even more irresistible now."
"Cara mia…" Gomez breathed dramatically, leaning in for a kiss.
That was Russell's cue to leave. "Ahem— I'll, uh, just… step outside."
But halfway to the door, he stopped short as a thought struck him.
Turning back (and grateful to find the couple merely gazing into each other's eyes instead of kissing), he asked, "Uncle Gomez, do you happen to have a place here where I could practice magic?"
Somehow, his casual "Mr. Addams" had already turned into a more familiar "Uncle Gomez."
Gomez beamed, clearly delighted by the change. "Ah, my boy! Eager to study already? Splendid! A diligent mind deserves encouragement. Lurch—"
The towering butler silently stepped forward.
"Take young Russell to the training hall," Gomez declared grandly. "Let him practice to his heart's content."
Russell grinned.
It was settled, then.
There were still a few weeks before term started — plenty of time to get a head start.
After all, Hermione Granger had famously read half her textbooks before arriving at Hogwarts. And if she could do that, so could he.
And unlike her, Russell wasn't bound by the Ministry's "no underage magic" rule — not here, under the Addams' roof.
If he wanted to get ahead, this was the place to do it.